


Promise Me

by ThornInHerSide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kick ass moves, Lots of drama, Protective Mycroft, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornInHerSide/pseuds/ThornInHerSide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's dead."    </p><p> </p><p>"Hmmm?" Mycroft frowns, slightly taken aback by her abruptness.   </p><p> </p><p>"Mycroft it's (Y/n)… she's dead."</p><p> </p><p>You are an MI6 secret agent sent out to retrieve valuable information but unfortunately for you, everything doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

It was a rainy and miserable day in London. Thousands of people walked along the busy pavements; the sea of different  coloured umbrellas brought life and  colour into the seemingly wet and dull streets. Mycroft Holmes was currently sat at his desk in his large office, while you were thousands of miles away on a very important mission to retrieve valuable information and kill the man responsible for taking it.  

 

 

 

  
Mycroft is suddenly distracted from his paperwork as he hears a small but urgent knock on his door and before he has the chance to say anything your boss, a middle aged woman named Margery steps in, her face pale and nervous.      


  


"She's dead."      
  


  
"Hmmm?" Mycroft frowns, slightly taken aback by her abruptness.     


  


"Mycroft it's (Y/n)… she's dead." Mycroft let's out a shaky breath and then shifts uncomfortably in his seat before he  firms his grip on the pen he's holding. "She was in a fight with Salvatore, the man we've been tracking for mon-"     
  
  


"How?" Mycroft interrupts, his voice growing slightly inpatient but his face remaining expressionless.      


  
  
"She was shot... by her colleague. It was accidental. She was in trouble, I mean she- the man could have killed her..."     


  


"What difference would it have made anyway!? You didn't trust her to finish the job herself!?"      
  


  
"We couldn't risk it, Mycroft. You know that we've spent months tracking this man down. The shot was a risk that I was willing to take."     


  


"What?" Mycroft sighs heavily now, his grip tightening further on the pen.  

  


"Well... we- I, knew the shot was unlikely to be a clean one, but I ju-." Margery starts to stutter now and she cannot look Mycroft in the eye.      
  


  
"So you knew it wouldn't be a clean shot," Mycroft interrupts again, "yet you told whoever was with her to take it!? She was our top agent and now she's dead. I can't believe you let this happen!" Mycroft raises his voice now, his calm demeanor breaking completely as the outer plastic of his pen makes a small cracking noise.      


  
  
"Mycroft, I'm sorry..." Mycroft lets out a small breath now, his hands moving to rub at the back of his neck in frustration. "I know the two of you were very fond of each other..." Your boss adds quietly. Mycroft doesn't reply he just sits there, his face expressionless even though on the inside he was hurting, more than he'd like to admit.     
  


  
After a few moments , he murmurs a small "Was the body recovered?"      
  


"No, we've yet to find it..."  Your boss looks at Mycroft for a moment before adding "We're doing everything we can Mycroft...I'll make sure to find you when (Y/n)'s body has been found." There's a small pause before, "Can I do anything else for you?"      
  
  


Mycroft stares at the wall for a few moments before turning to look at your boss before murmuring a soft, "That'll be all... thank you." Your boss gives a small nod and leaves Mycroft's office, where he now takes a small step back from all of his paperwork and rests his tired head in his hands, his mind wandering back to the other day where you promised him that you'd come back.     
  
  


**************    
  
  
  
"So, it's tomorrow?"  Myroft asks you, helping you bring your small suitcase to your front door ready for your early flight the next morning.     
  
  
  
"Yep." You huff, blowing some of your (h/c) hair out of your face and resting your hands on your hips, "Hopefully I'll be back by the end of the week. You know me, I like to get things over and done with as soon as possible."      


"Apart from your packing." Mycroft adds teasingly causing you to giggle.     
  
  
  
"Apart from my packing."      


 

Mycroft smiles before checking his pocket watch, noticing it was starting to get late, he says, "Well, I should leave you to get some sleep, you have an early start tomorrow."   

  
  
  
"Won't you stay for a drink... just one?" You ask, already headed towards the kitchen in order to get some wine glasses. Mycroft just smiles and nods his head as he follows you into the kitchen. "You never know it could be our last together, with me going after a very dangerous man." You add somewhat jokingly, grabbing a bottle of red and some elegant wine glasses and Mycroft gives you a serious look before you raise your eyebrows at him and lead him back into the living room.      
  
  
  
"Shall we put a record on?" Mycroft asks, flicking through your collection as you sit down on your sofa pouring a generous amount of wine into both of your glasses. "I haven't listened to one of these in such a long time." He murmurs, his concentration set on what record he should choose.     


  
"You listened to the new LP I got last week!"      


  
"Oh, yes! Of course. Still, it's a long time to go without listening to a record." He jokes, putting his chosen record onto your record player. 

 

 

He carefully lifts the needle and places it gently on the record, the light crackling noise emitted from the vinyl making Mycroft smile. He turns up the volume slightly, loud enough for the two of you to hear it and quiet enough not to wake the neighbors.     


  
"Good choice, Mr." You say as you watch Mycroft walk over to the sofa to sit beside you with a small smile on your face. Even though he looks slightly tired from all the stress he has to endure at work, he also looks relaxed and you always enjoy seeing Mycroft in this happy, if not casual mood. You seem to be the only person that could bring this out in him.     


  
**************    
  
  
  
"My boss has been going on at me for weeks now, 'you could be killed, y'know!' 'This is probably the most dangerous mission you've ever been assigned to do!'" You say after two generous glasses of wine later, the record Mycroft had chosen still playing softly in the background. "Who cares?! If I die, I die. There are plenty of other agents good enough to replace me!" You add dramatically, grabbing the empty wine glasses and half full bottle in your hands, almost stumbling in your attempt to get up.  "I'm just another cog in the machine, I do what needs to be done and when I'm no longer useful, well... I'll get tossed aside like every other poor sod... but what can you do, eh?" You were about to go into the kitchen but then,     
  


"No." Mycroft says in a serious tone causing you to stop and look at him. He walks over to you in one small step and takes the bottle and glasses out of your hands and sets them aside. "You mustn't say that. I won't allow you to say that." The record stops playing now and your (e/c) eyes stare at his blue ones for a moment, your lips slightly parted not due to shock or disbelief at Mycroft's incredibly serious if not stern tone with you but it was more due to the fact that you were somewhat confused with his serious behavior.        
  
  


"Mycroft?"     


  
"You must promise me... promise me, that you'll come back safe and unharmed."   Mycroft's hands move to rest on your shoulders and for the first time ever you notice the seriousness and slight fear in his usually cold, emotionless eyes as they gaze into your soft (e/c) ones. "Promise me, (Y/n)." He now whispers, his handsome features tired and worried.     


  
  
You bring your hands up to his face and breathe a quiet, "I promise, Mycroft."      


  
  
You had never seen Mycroft like this before. Why was he acting like this? The wine wasn't even that strong and he had only drunk half of his first glass. You'd been away on life  threatening missions before, he always wished you luck but he was never like the way he was now.  Of course, the two of you are great friends, close friends even, You'd known him for over two years now, since you moved into 221C Baker Street, the flat beneath his brother, Sherlock and his flatmate John. You had gotten to know him through Sherlock and the two of you became close quite fast. You found his wit, charm and gentlemanly fashion rather lovely and he found your ability to keep Sherlock under control and to just deal with him in the first place most admirable as well as your interesting conversations and the fact that you showed a warm and caring side towards him and his brother. You knew Mycroft cared for you and so did Sherlock, he'd even told you that he'd been shocked by his brother's unlikely burst of affection towards you but you had never seen him look so worried about you before. So, with that you hug him tightly, your arms wrapping around his waist, the soft material of his waistcoat underneath your fingertips. 

 

 

"I promise." you repeat softly into his chest as his heart beats rhythmically against your ear.      
  


  
After a few moments, Mycroft pulls back from the hug slightly and smiles down at you before whispering a quiet "Thank you." He then plants a small but tender kiss on your forehead and leaves the warmth of your body leaving you red and speechless.     


  
"Phone me when you get there?"      


  
"Y-yeah. Yeah... of course I will." You breathe, still not believing Mycroft's show of affection towards you.      
  
  


"Goodnight (Y/n)."     


  
"Goodnight My."                     
  
  


  
**************    
  
  
  
"Hello?"      


  
"Hi, Mycroft, it's (Y/n)."     


  
"Oh, hello (Y/n). I trust you arrived safely?" Mycroft asks as he's sat in front of his fireplace, a glass of scotch in one hand whilst his mobile is in the other.      
  
  
  
"I did thank you, yes. Even though I hate flying, this wasn't so bad." You chuckle before adding, "How are you? How was the meeting today?" You lie down on your bed for the night, pulling the large duvet over your tired body as your head rests on the soft white pillows.     


  
"I am well, thank you. The meeting went surprisingly ok... although," Mycroft shifts in his seat a little, "it was incredibly tedious and the people there were completely idiotic." You giggle a little at this and Mycroft smiles. "How are you, my dear?"      


  
You feel a delightful warmth run through your entire body as his smooth voice calls you 'my dear' before breathing out a small, "good." You then yawn quietly, chuckling, "just a little tired."  You roll onto your side and mumble a sleepy "It's been a long day and I have an even longer one ahead of me tomorrow, which I'm not looking forward to."    
  
  


"You'll be fine, ( Y/n ). Just think about getting home safely, hmm?"     
  
  


You yawn once more before you say, "Thank you,  Myc ."    


  
Mycroft smiles as he imagines that you'd be snuggled up comfortably under a duvet, your eyes struggling to keep open as you speak to him over the phone.  

 

 

"Well... I shall leave you to sleep then." Mycroft says softly, taking a small sip of his scotch.     


  
"Alright then. I'll try and call you tomorrow." You say, snuggling further down under your duvet, letting out another small yawn.     


  
"Yes. Goodnight, my dear." Mycroft disconnects the call after you both say your goodbyes and then he sits back in his armchair, tucking his mobile back in his jacket pocket. He watches the orange and yellow flames dance about wildly in the fireplace for a moment, the flames casting shadows along his face and the walls.  He then finishes the rest of his scotch and decides that it would be best if he headed up to bed himself.     
  
  
  
  
**************    
  
  
  
"Can you hear me?" You ask, walking through a crowd of chattering people.     
  
  


"Yeah. Can you hear me?"      
  
  


"Yes." You reply, your eyes now wandering the current area you were in. You spot your colleague David sat on some dusty looking steps away from the crowd. "I see you." You say, watching as David's hand moves up to his earpiece as you speak to him. You roll your eyes and say, "For god's sake. Don't make it anymore obvious will you?!"      
  
  


"What?!" He says, now looking directly at you, his hand going up to his earpiece again.      
  
  


You give him a small look of disapproval before you continue walking adding a quick, "Don't put your hand up to your earpiece, do you want people to grow suspicious?"         
  
  


"Sorry." He says, waiting a while before rising and asking, "So, he's definitely here then? Salvatore?"      
  
  


"Well, the information given to me was that he's here every Tuesday." You say, looking at one of the pretty silk scarves on one of the stalls. Noticing the owner was close by, you move away quickly before he could try and negotiate any buying prices with you. "We need to be patient, that's all."      
  
  


You continue to walk around the market, with David following behind but keeping a reasonable distance away from you. The sun was strong today and even though there was a slight breeze, it was still humid and the large crowds of people weren't making it any better either. You had been walking around this busy market for ages now and with no sign of Salvatore, you were beginning to grow impatient and slightly frustrated. All you could think about right now was finishing the job as quickly as possible and returning home, triumphant.       
  
  


About ten minutes later, just when you thought that the two of you would have to give up for the day, you spot your man.      
  
  


"Found him." You murmur, your (e/c) now watching his every move. You notice a small rope around his neck and hanging from that was a memory stick. "Ah, how handy." You say, "He carries the documents around with him."      
  
  


"You think they're on that memory stick?" David asks you, before adding, "Why would he carry them about with hi-"     
  


"Because it's valuable information." You interrupt, "He's not just gonna leave it lying about now, is he?"      
  


That'd make more sense..."   You hum in agreement before Salvatore's eyes move directly onto yours. You look at him for a moment before he pulls a gun out of his pocket and shoots it directly towards you, but of course, you being you, you manage to roll and dodge the bullet completely and hide behind one of the market stalls.     
  
  
  


"Shit!" David cries, "Are you alright!?"

"Fine." You groan as a bit of dust gets in your eye but you get up nonetheless and push past the now screaming people as more gunshots are fired your way. Diving for more cover, you quickly pull out your treasured silverballers in one swift movement and fire two shots towards Salvatore but he manages to skillfully dodge your bullets; something you're quite impressed by as your shots usually always hit your target. You then hear the revs of a motorbike in the distance, you get up from behind your cover and see Salvatore starting to get away. You sprint in his direction, shoving your silverballers back in their holders, pushing members of the crowd out of your way as you did so. Noticing a set of keys placed in the ignition of someone's parked motorbike you jump onto it and begin your pursuit after Salvatore, your colleague David following close behind in the jeep, leaving a whirlwind of dust behind him.  

  
  
  
"We can't lose him!" You cry, weaving your way through the cars making the drivers slam down on their breaks and curse after you. Salvatore suddenly makes a sharp turn left and you follow suit. Behind you, you hear the sound of an oncoming train, within seconds it is riding alongside you. Keeping your eyes on Salvatore, you notice that he slowed down slightly changing his direction before speeding up and jumping onto the moving train. Groaning in annoyance you do the same and manage to land just on the edge of one of the carriages, you let out a small groan after your heavy landing. Leaving the motorbike, you steady yourself before you begin to run towards Salvatore, jumping over the gaps between each train carriage, the wind making it hard for you to progress forwards.      
  
  
  
Back in the jeep, David gets a call from Margery, the big boss.     
  
  
  
"What's the current situation?" Her posh voice asks, somewhat impatiently.     
  
  
  
"We're in pursuit, Ma'am." He pauses for a moment before adding, "(Y/n) is currently in combat with him on top of a moving train..." David then picks up the speed of the jeep, making sure to stick by the train.      
  
  
  
"Isn't there anything you can do to help her?!" Margery asks, her tone now containing some degree of concern for your current position.      
  
  
  
Completely ignoring Margery's question for a moment, David notices that the road ahead is coming to a dead end and you notice as you throw punches and kicks at Salvatore that you are both speeding along a high bridge over the water and headed towards a huge tunnel. David now speeds towards the dead end, overtaking the train. He rushes out of the jeep, grabbing a sniper from the passengers seat.      
  
  
  
"I could get a shot." David says, "But I can’t guarantee that it'll be a clean one."      
  
  
  
Back at HQ in London, your boss pauses, everyone in the room turning to look at her.      
  
  
  
"Ma'am?"      
  
  
  
"Take the shot." Everyone's eyes in the room widen, but Margery takes no notice.     
  
  
  
"It won't be a clean one. I repeat it won't be a clean one." David says urgently, his hands shaking slightly as he watches you get closer and closer to the tunnel. "They're almost out of sight!"      
  
  
  
" **TAKE THE GODDAMN SHOT!** " Margery barks, slamming her hands on the desk in front of her.     
  
  
  
David takes aim and with one shaky breath, he fires the sniper a loud bang emitting from it as he pulls the trigger.      
  
  
  
Back on the train, you and Salvatore both turn your heads in the direction of the gunfire before you feel a bullet rip painfully through your collarbone sending you flying backwards off of the fast moving train. Your body hurtles down off of the bridge, your head just missing the train tracks on your descent. The fall and the pain of the bullet ripping through you was enough to knock you out cold before you land in the cold water and  plummet deep down into the dark abyss beneath you. Your right arm suddenly violently hits some sharp rocks and blood begins to pour from your body causing a  red cloud to form around your body in the water.     
  
  
  
Back on the train, Salvatore turns to give David a small smirk before saluting him and disappearing into the tunnel.     
  
  
  
"Agent down." Came David's somber voice before he disconnected the call and kicked some of the dirt on the ground beneath him causing a large cloud of dust to form in front of him.       
  
  
  
Back at HQ, your boss lets out a small huff of breath before she turns towards the window, her back facing all of the shocked faces.      
  
  
  
  
  
**************     
  
  
  
Pulling up outside Baker Street, in a black Jaguar, Mycroft steps out and then walks slowly towards 221B. He straightens the brass door knocker before he enters, once in he closes the door softly behind him. He stops outside your flat, 221C for a moment before letting out a small sigh and climbing up the stairs to his brother's flat.     
  
  
  
Inside Sherlock, John and Mrs Hudson, are currently settling down by the table for lunch. Mycroft clears his throat and they all turn to look up at him.     
  
  
  
"Forgive me," he says before he clears his throat once more and adds, "I-I'm afraid I have some rather upsetting news."      
  
  
  
Sherlock looks up at his brother's face before saying, "It's (Y/n), isn't it?" Mycroft just looks at Sherlock sadly for a few moments before nodding his head, his grip tightening on the wooden handle of his umbrella.      
  
  
  
"Oh dear!" Cries Mrs Hudson, bringing her delicate hand up to her mouth. "Is she alright?!"      
  
  
  
When Mycroft doesn't reply, John rises from his chair, making a loud scraping noise against the wooden floor.      
  
  
  
"Mycroft!?"     
  
  
  
"She's dead." He manages to get out. John sits back down in his chair with a heavy thud and lets out a shaky breath. "She's dead." Mycroft repeats in a small whisper this time, his voice trembling slightly.     
  
  
  
Mrs Hudson lets out a small cry and Mycroft looks at her sadly before she asks, "How?"     
  
  
  
"She was shot." He replies softly and Mrs Hudson gasps before getting up and leaving the room while sobbing quietly. Sherlock gets up and walks towards his brother. Mycroft gives him a look that says 'don't-you-bloody-dare-say-anything-stupid-right-now' and Sherlock returns a 'really?' look before placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.      
  
  
  
"I'm sorry." John now looks up at Sherlock from the table. "You loved her, didn't you?"     
  
  
  
Mycroft doesn't miss a beat to reply with a sincere, "I did. I loved her very much." John's mouth opens in shock and he turns to look at Sherlock again. "All lives end...All hearts are broken." Mycroft looks down at Sherlock,      
  
  
  
"Caring is not an advantage." Sherlock finishes and Mycroft nods his head sadly before turning towards the door and leaving, his black coat swishing behind him.      


 

Suddenly Sherlock nor John don't feel like eating anymore so they just sit by the table in silence, hearing the faint sobs of Mrs Hudson downstairs.   
  
  


 

**************    
  
  
  
Somewhere, thousands of miles away from home, you awake slowly, your whole body aching painfully. You let out a small groan as you try to sit up but your body won't allow it. Letting your eyes adjust to the light you take in your current surroundings. It looked like you were in some kind of tropical beach hut or house, you couldn’t tell which. You could hear the sea from the outside though and the laughter of children. The room you were in didn't have much in it, only a bed and a chair. You then notice a small bedside cabinet and notice that both of your silverballers were placed on top of it. You smile to yourself and you feel incredibly grateful to whomever had saved them as well as yourself. You then hear the door open quietly and an elderly woman steps through it with a tray that has a steaming bowl on top of it. She smiles and heads in your direction before placing the tray on the floor so she can prop you up with some pillows before bending down to put the tray on your lap. You look at the contents of the bowl and notice that it looks like some kind of broth.     
  
  


You look up at the old woman and smile, saying a small "Thank you."     
  
  


"Ah! So you English." She says in a foreign voice, you weren't sure what the accent was. The woman hands you a spoon before sitting down on the chair beside your bed. "What happened?"     
  
  


"Well... All I remember is being shot." You say weakly, struggling to lift the spoon up to your mouth.  "You found me?" 

  
  


"Yes. Washed up." She says. "Almost dead." She looks at you softly before adding, "I bandaged you up. I saved you."    
  
  


"You did." You say. "Thank you so much." You wait a few moments before asking, "How long have I been here?"

 

 

"Four days. I'm surprised that you are awake now. I bring food everyday, just in case you wake up."    
  
  


"Four days..." You gasp.

 

 

She nods her head before rising from the chair with a small groan. "Eat." She says before leaving you.     
  
  


As soon as the woman leaves, you devour the broth as quickly as you can, not caring about the pain that shot through your entire arm as you lifted the spoon up to your mouth. You then gulp down the cold water and sigh with contentment. Pushing the tray away from you, you close your eyes and breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth. After a few moments you force yourself to sit up properly, the pain this caused making you cry softly. With your body trembling you breathe in deeply and swing your legs over the side of the bed, planting them firmly on the ground. You try and get up but you are forced to sit back down again as you whimper loudly, your whole body giving you unbearable pain.  You sit on the side of the bed for a while, breathing in and out deeply in order to try and control the pain.    
  
  


"You can do this." You say to yourself. "Stand up."    
  
  


With one last deep breath you finally manage to stand up and you stumble towards the wall to lean against for balance. "Fuck." You moan through gritted teeth, hissing slightly as your collarbone starts to sting badly.     
  
  


The old woman rushes into the bedroom as she must have heard you in your attempt to get out of bed. "What are you doing!?" She says sternly. "You're hurt bad!" She moves to your side and gently grips onto your arm. "You must rest!"     
  
  


"No." You groan. "I need to get back home... Please, please I want to go home." You take small sharp breaths in order to calm yourself down. "Where am I?"    
  
  


 

"Fethiye." The woman says.    
  
  


"Fethiye? Don't a load of tourists come here?"     
  
  


"Yes. It's how I learn English."     
  
  


"I can get home from here." You say.   
  


The old woman smiles at you and then walks towards your silverballers. She grabs them carefully as if they were made of  china and hands them to you.     
  
  


"Why does a young lady like you have these, hmm?" She questions you, which only makes you smile.    
  
  


"Self defense." You reply and the old woman just nods her head. "(F/n) (L/n)."    
  
  


"Aylin." The woman replies.    
  
  


"I owe you my life, Aylin." You smile. "I-"    
  
  


"Please. The pleasure was mine." She places her frail, wrinkled hand on your shoulder and smiles. "Now please. Go home to your family."     
  
  


You thank her once more and you leave her home. Limping slowly towards the town, you take one last look at the sparkling blue sea water and the golden sand before moving onwards ready to begin your mission to get home.    
  
  


************** 

__

_ "Mycroft?" You say softly, placing your hand on his shoulder making him turn around from the window and face you.    
  
  
_

_ "(Y/n)." He smiles, moving to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs delicately stroke your cheeks in a small circular motion.  You bring your hands up to caress his chest through his crisp white shirt. "I love you." He whispers, now grabbing your hands in his, intertwining your fingers together. You look up at him, his blue eyes boring into your sparkling (e/c) ones.    
  
  
_

_ "I love you too." You reply, squeezing Mycroft's hands in yours. "I love you so much." You say, now resting your head against his chest.  _

__

__

_ Mycroft takes one of his hands away from yours and moves it to gently lift your chin up so you would be looking up at him. Moving his head closer to yours, his breath warm on your face, he connects his soft lips with yours and caresses them gently, both of his hands now moving to your hips as yours moved to his neck. His teeth drag across your bottom lip as he briefly pulls away for air and then he moves to reconnect his lips back with yours. Mycroft's eyes and yours slip closed in pleasure now as his tongue enters your mouth and you moan softly, pressing your hips against his. His tongue caresses yours and his hands slowly move to rest on your behind, pulling you even closer towards him. You moan in pleasure as Mycroft spins you around and pushes you up against the wall, his lips now trailing kisses along your neck. He then lifts you up slightly allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He groans in pleasure as his arousal presses against you. You grab his red tie and pull him towards you so that you can bite down and tug on his bottom lip.  _

_   
  
_

_ "(Y/n)." He moans, his hands running along your scalp, before grabbing a fistful of your soft (h/c) hair as you buck your hips against his. He then opens his eyes to look at you and notices a small red blotch on your white blouse. The small blotch rapidly starts to grow bigger, as if it were ink on paper and then more red blotches begin to appear spreading across your entire chest. "(Y/n)!" Mycroft panics stepping back from you.    
  
  
_

_ "Mycroft!" You shout your hands moving to your chest before you fall to your knees, your whole blouse now heavy with blood. You bring your bloodied fingers up to your face before you start to sob uncontrollably. "MYCROFT!" You scream before blood starts pouring from your mouth and pooling on the ground beneath you. _   
  
  


Mycroft suddenly wakes up and bolts upright, his heart beating rapidly and his hands shaking. He tries to calm himself down by taking small, sharp intakes of breath. It's been almost a month now since your death and they still haven't found your body and this angered Mycroft but somehow also gave him a false hope, a hope that you were actually still alive and well. He waits a moment before running a shaky hand through his thinning  auburn hair, as he stares into the darkness before turning to look at the clock.     
  


** 03:45 AM ** ****   
  
  


Mycroft sighs and rests his head back on his pillow. He'd have to get up in two hours, he has an important meeting later on today so he needs his rest although since your death he'd found that sleeping was becoming an increasingly difficult thing to do. He closes his eyes and after a short while he drifts off back into an uneasy, light slumber.     
  
  


************** 

 

You had been walking for days now and you had been sleeping rough for God knows how many days. You'd managed to hitch a few rides here and there but none of the drivers were willing to take you as far as the airport and you couldn't get a taxi because you had no money to give. Walking through a busy town, your body now used to the pain you decide that the only way to get home is to hitch another ride off someone, something you didn't like doing but under your circumstances it was your only option. You had noticed two men following you about and also a black car, you had spotted them a few times now but you tried to ignore them as you were starting to grow incredibly anxious and for some strange reason you were finding it hard to breathe. Turning down a small path you slump down onto the ground by an old shop door. You breathe in and out slowly, your hands trembling slightly before you hear footsteps approach you. Your head snaps in the direction of the footsteps and you see the two men begin to approach you. Standing quickly, with a loud groan you turn to face the two bald headed men.

 

"You." The first man shouts. 

 

 

"What?"

 

 

"You killed Salvatore." The second man says in a monotonous voice. You look behind you and notice that the black car has blocked off your exit. You turn back to the two men.

 

 

"Who? I've never heard of, what was his name?" You play stupid now, while your eyes search for an alternative and probably painful escape route.

 

 

"Don't lie to us! You are secret agent from Britain, sent to kill our boss!"  You give the two men a confused look before you shrug your shoulders.

 

 

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about gentlemen. You clearly have the wrong person!" 

 

 

"We don't think so." One of them replies pulling out a gun from his jacket. You roll your eyes now and hold up your hands. You've calculated that the only way you could escape was to get over the very tall wall to your right that would put you onto the pavement near a few houses.

 

 

"Really gentlemen. I think this is completely unnecessary!" You laugh taking a few steps back. One of the men cocks his gun and aims it towards your head.

 

 

"You come with us or we shoot you here, now." You close your eyes and breathe in deeply before you swiftly tic tac off of the shop wall, just about managing to throw yourself over the top of the wall to your right, landing in a painful heap on a small patch of grass on the other side. You hear the men shout and the car starts up once more  before you start sprinting back into the street, your entire body rippling with pain. Noticing a young man get into a parked car not far in front of you, you run up to him and knock urgently on his window.

 

"Please! Let me in!" You beg, pointing towards the passengers seat. The man just nods his head and opens the door for you, looking rather alarmed by your sudden urgency.

  
  
  
"Teşekkür ederim." You say breathlessly to the driver plonking yourself down onto the seat. "Can you take me to the airport?" You blurt out, hoping your driver understood English.    
  
  


" Evet , of course!" He replies quickly. "Anything for a beautiful bayan like you! I was headed in that direction anyway!"   He smiles at you now and nods his head. You look at him surprised that he didn't even question who you were and why you needed to get to the airport.   
  
  


"Bayan?"  Is all you can ask now since you were still slightly surprised that the young man was so willing to take you to the airport without question.    
  
  


"Female...woman, lady."     
  
  


"Ah." You say. "I'm afraid my Turkish- well I'm afraid I only know a few phrases."     
  
  


"Better than nothing!" Your driver smiles, his brown eyes fixed on you.   He now starts the car and begins to drive, you look back and you notice the two men walking the way you had just sprinted looking confused and sorry for themselves. You grin and slump comfortably in the passengers seat, your heart beat beginning to return to its normal state.   
  
  


"Yes, I suppose." You murmur before adding, "I have a friend back home that can speak, God I don't know, but he's fluent in so many languages!"  You turn to look out of the window, you bring your fingertips up to it and draw small swirls in the condensation on the glass. "I miss him." You whisper.    
  
  


"What?" Your driver asks, turning to look at you briefly.    
  
  


"Nothing. Just... Thank you, for giving me a ride."   
  
  


The young man just nods his head and turns the radio on. An upbeat folk sounding Turkish song began to play loudly as the young man sped through the streets overtaking some cars and just missing some of the crossing pedestrians. Throughout the journey your mind wandered to think about Mycroft. You thought about what you'd say to him when you returned, did he even care anymore? What if he'd be angry with you? It had been almost a month now and you hadn't contacted him at all but you didn't want to risk it. Who knows how many people are now keeping tabs on you. As well as those two idiots you had encountered earlier there could actually be highly trained assassins watching your every move for all you know, they could be tracking you down after you had allegedly killed their boss. Margery must have sent other agents to track him down again. Anyway who knows who could be  listening to any phone call you'd make and what if they went to hurt that person you'd phoned in order to get through to you? There was no way that you were willing to risk Mycroft or anyone's life. Anyway, you were on your way home now. You'd be seeing him, Sherlock, John and Mrs Hudson shortly. Just thinking about this made you smile but also made you feel slightly nervous as to what their reactions would be. You'd also have to go and see your boss and ask why she thought it'd be a good idea for your colleague to take the shot and get you into this whole mess to begin with. You weren't furious, but there was definitely some kind of anger within you. 

  
  


"I need fuel. Two minutes." Your driver says, you only  realising now that the car had stopped at what looked like a rundown gas station. Before you can reply, the man gets out the car and shuts the door behind him. You look out of the window again, thinking about these assassins had gotten you paranoid. Your hand moves to where you keep your guns, you knew they probably wouldn't work after the water had gotten into them but you pull them out nonetheless, better safe than sorry. Hearing footsteps approach the car you turn around quickly, groaning as pain shoots through your collarbone. Seeing it was your new friend, you relax again and rest your head back on the passengers seat.    
  
  


"You are ok?" He asks looking at you with concern etched on his face.    
  
  


"Fine, yes." You say, giving him a fake smile as the pain continues to shoot through your collarbone and down your right arm.    
  
  


"Here." He says, placing a bag of nuts and a bottle of water on your lap. "You look like you need this."    
  
  


"Oh. Thank you." You smile.    
  
  


"I am Asil."    
  
  


"(Y/n)."  You reply, shaking his hand. "I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself earlier." Asil smiles and then his eyes notice your silverballers on your lap, now half covered with the bag of nuts he'd just given you. His brown eyes open wide like saucers and you hold up your hands before slowly sliding the silverballers back into their holders. "I can explain. Just drive the car."     
  
  


You tell Asil about your job, even though you weren't really meant too. You tell him about how you were assigned to retrieve important information back for the agency and then how you were fighting on top of a moving train and how you got shot off it and how you had plummeted down off a three hundred feet-high bridge. You then explained why you had ran up to his car so urgently and how you were almost shot again. All through your story Asil's eyes look at you in amazement, his small gasps and cries showing you that he was really immersed in your story.     
  
  


"Shit!" He exclaims excitedly. "So you're like James Bond, 007!?"     
  
  


"You could say that." You chuckle, taking a swig of the bottled water, wincing a little at the pain when you raise the bottle to your mouth.    
  
  


"You are one hell of a lady." He says before adding, "I will get you safely home, 007."     
  
  


"Thank you, Asil." You say in the poshest English accent you could muster, making him nod his head and smile.    
  
  


*************    
  
  


"007! Wake up!"     
  
  


"Hmmm?"    
  
  


"Wake up!" Your eyes open slowly and you see Asil's face in yours.    
  
  


"What is it?"      
  
  


"We're at the airport!" You slowly sit up now, the bag of nuts spilling slightly on the floor.    
  
  


"Shit." You mutter, carefully rolling the top of the bag and placing it on top of the dashboard. Your eyes focus on your current surroundings and you see the sign that said 'AIRPORT' in big bold letters, making you smile widely. You carefully climb out of the car, taking Asil's hand to help you up. "This is where I leave you." You say sadly and Asil nods his head.    
  
  


"It has been a pleasure, 007." Asil says shaking your hand. 

 

 

"You must give me your address so I can send you some money."

 

 

"No, no. The pleasure was all mine. I don't need any money. Please, believe me."    
  
  


"I owe you so much." You say, choking back a small sob. Asil and Aylin have single handedly restored your faith in all of humanity. "Thank you, Asil."  The man moves to hug you gently, not squeezing hard because he knew about your injuries.    
  
  


"You can add me on Facebook though." He says and you giggle softly shaking your head.    
  
  


"I'm afraid I don't have Facebook, my job won't allow it."    
  
  


"Skype then?"     
  
  


"Alright." You laugh and he rushes back to the car to grab a scrap piece of paper and a pen. He scribbles down his username and hands it to you.    
  
  


"Please add." He pleads and you nod your head, folding the piece of paper into your trouser pocket. "Goodbye, 007." He says before saluting you.     
  
  


You salute back before you say, "Goodbye Asil." and start your way towards the airport's entrance.    
  
  


************* 

_ After entering the airport and trying to explain who you were, things didn't go quite well for you.  Given your current appearance... you couldn't really blame the airport staff. _   
  
  


"I'M MI6!" You cry, banging your handcuffed hands on the desk in front of you. "LOOK ME UP ON YOUR DATABASE!" The airport security guards look at you as if to say 'oh-really' before one of them decides it would be best to go check one of the computers after you give them the death-glare. All special agents were supposed to be on the airport's database, just in case they ended up in your current situation without anything to  prove their identity. After a few brief moments one of the security guards return with a printed piece of paper.    
  
  


"It says here that you are dead."     
  
  


You roll your eyes. "Really? You're really going to believe that? I'm right here!" One of the security guards looks at your photograph on the printed piece of paper with pursed lips and then lifts his head to look at you, he does this a few times before showing the paper to his co-workers. After a few moments of confirming among each other, one man walks towards you and unlocks your handcuffs.     
  
  


"We will get you on the next flight, miss."      
  
  


"Thank you!" You breathe, your body slumping down in the plastic chair.    
  
  


Within moments you were given a first-class plane ticket your silverballers and multiple apologies before you board the plane back to London with a content smile on your face.    
  
  
  
  
************     
  
  


Hours later, you arrive back in Blighty; you had never been so happy to hear the captain say 'welcome to the UK.' You catch a cab back to Baker Street deciding it would be best to shower and change your clothes before you went looking for Mycroft, you'd already received a dozen of filthy looks from the passengers on first-class. The cab driver told you stories that made no sense whatsoever but you were just glad to hear a familiar accent.    
  
  


When you arrived outside Baker Street, you tell the cab driver to wait outside so you could run (or limp given your injuries) into your flat to get some money. So doing just that, you pay the cabbie, telling him to keep the change for he told some interesting stories and you slowly walk back to your flat, 221C.    
  
  


You quickly go to your cupboard grabbing a packet of chocolate digestives. You rip the packet open and shove two of them in your mouth moaning in content as it was good to have good tasting food, you hadn't eaten properly in God knows how many days.       
  
  


You then walk over to your bedroom and take out one of your biggest t-shirts and a pair of loose-fitting jeans. You then take out the piece of paper that Asil gave you and place it on your bedside cabinet  before going over to the bathroom to turn the shower on. The warm water stings your wounds but you are glad to see all the dried blood and dirt wash off you and swirl down the drain. You shampoo your hair slowly, finding it hard to bring your arms up to your head due to your aching limbs. You then wash your entire body with a lavender scented soap that Mrs Hudson had given to you after she'd been away with her sister. After rinsing the soap out of your hair and off your body you step out of the shower and wrap a fluffy towel around your waist, leaving your top half uncovered so you could properly assess the damage done.     
  
  


You wince slightly as you wipe your steamed up mirror with another towel. When clear, you slowly peel the bandage away from your collarbone, right shoulder and arm and let out a small whimper. Your bullet wound was beginning to get infected and your entire shoulder was purple. You fumble through your bathroom cabinet and find some more bandages and then some antiseptic and a scalpel. Knowing that some of the bullet was still stuck in your wound, you cut your skin and blood seeps from the bullet hole making you cry with pain. You bring a shaky hand up to your wound and with a look of pure disgust on your face, manage to bring the remains of the bullet out of your body. You quickly wash the wound out with hot water and the antiseptic and then you wrap the bandages tightly around it, stopping anymore blood from seeping out of the wound.  Slowly trudging to your bedroom you put on your clothes, tie your hair up into a messy bun, not having enough patience to dry it properly put on a cardigan and ten head back out in attempt to find Mycroft but perhaps first, you should pay your boss a quick visit.    
  
  


***********

You strut through  MI6 headquarters like you own the place taking no notice of the shocked faces and eyes staring at you. You then burst into your boss' office and she gasps in shock.    
  
  


"You're alive!"     
  
  


"No..." You say sarcastically and roll your eyes.    
  
  


"You're alive!" She repeats setting her paperwork down on her desk. "And you look terrible!"     
  
  


"Thanks."     
  
  


"What happened to you?!"    
  
  


"YOU KNOW DAMN WELL WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!" You shout unable to contain your anger any longer. "You told David to take the shot! WHY?!"     
  


  
"I thought it'd help you." Margery said, crossing her legs and sipping some of her tea.     
  


  
"Well it didn't, did it?" You mumble before adding, "I had people after me! I had to walk for days and hitch rides off people! It was horrible. I was almost shot once again by Salvatore's men, they had somehow found me, God knows how. He was killed?"

 

 

"Yes. We sent other agents after him. After your death they were insistent that he'd be eliminated. The information was destroyed in the process though... but at least no one else can get their hands on it."

 

 

 

"So... It's mission accomplished then?"

 

 

"Yes..." Your boss pauses for a moment before adding a sincere, "I panicked (Y/n). I didn't know what to do. I thought that everything would have been fine but clearly it wasn't... I'm sorry."

  
  


  
"Alright, ok." You sigh quietly and look down at your feet. "I-" 

  
  


"You'll obviously be needing some time off before you return to work." Your boss adds  absentmindedly , returning to one of the documents she was reading. "You will when you're ready, of course, have to go through training again, but when the time is right I'm sure you'll pass with flying  colours ."    
  
  


"What makes you think I want to come back?"     
  


 

  
"I know you, (Y/n) (L/n )." She smirks and you can't help but smile too. "I believe Mycroft is in the Diogenes today." She adds, before lifting her head to look up at you. "Well go on. Go tell him you're back! I'm sure you're longing to see your beloved."    
  


  


"What?"    
  
  


"Oh come now, we both know you love him." You look at Margery your face flushing pink and she just giggles.     
  


 

  
"How did y-."    
  


  


"It was slightly obvious. I mean you should have seen  Myroft when he found out it was David who had shot you."    
  
  


"What did he do?!"     
  
  


"Well firstly he got very angry and then wanted him fired but in the end settled for having him suspended from field work for five months."    
  
  


"Shit."    
  
  


"Indeed."  She returns to look at her paperwork and then utters a small, "Off you pop then."     
  
  


"Thank you, Ma'am." You say before leaving her office and heading off to the Diogenes club.    
  
  


************    
  
  


Twenty minutes later you arrive outside the Diogenes. Your stomach churns due to your nerves before you walk up the steps and enter the building. Having been to the Diogenes before, you are let in without any trouble. You make your way down the corridor towards Mycroft's office, you had to resist the urge to break out into a run and call out his name; there was a strict 'no speaking' policy, you never understood what it was about but the least you could do was respect that rule.     
  
  


Noticing that Mycroft's office door was open, you walk in and notice that Mycroft isn't there. You decide to prop yourself up on the edge of his desk to wait for him, giving you time to actually think over what you were going to say to him.     
  
  


'Guess who's back, bitch!' No, you thought. No that's not a good one, highly inappropriate, not a wise thing to say after a month of being dead. Just a simple 'hello' would do you think, shifting nervously on the edge of his desk, twiddling your thumbs slightly. You then hear footsteps and Mycroft walks into his office his eyes concentrating on the papers he held in his hands. Your breath hitched in your throat as you see him and you were suddenly unable to get any words out of your mouth. He closes the door behind him with his foot. He stops by the door for a moment, muttering something under his breath before you manage to croak out a small "Hi."    
  
  


Mycroft looks up from his papers and then drops them all on the floor as he sees you now stood in front of his desk.     
  
  


"(Y/n)?!"    
  
  
Before you can say anything he rushes towards you, standing on all the papers he'd just dropped on the floor before wrapping his arms around you tightly. You groan in pain and Mycroft pulls away quickly his face full of worry and concern.     
  
  


"Are you alright?" You nod your head before you move back in to hug him tightly, not caring for the pain this time. He pulls back from the hug and looks down at you before adding a stern if not angry,     
  
  


"Why didn't you phone me?! I could have helped you!"     
  
  


You let out a small sob into his waistcoat before you cry,     
  
  


"I'm so sorry!" Mycroft's chest tightens and he winces as he hears you begin to cry.     
  
  


"I could have helped you." He repeated softer this time his thumb rubbing your neck soothingly.    
  
  


"I wanted to call you... I did! But I couldn't risk it." You say pulling back from Mycroft's chest.     
  
  


"What were the risks?"    
  
  


"People were after me. They could have tracked my calls and killed whoever I spoke too in order to get through to me. It's happened to other agents..."  You sob even more now your tiredness getting the better of you. Mycroft makes small 'sushing' noises as he tries to calm you down, he pulls away from you and wipes your tears with the pad of his thumb. You sniff loudly before rubbing at your tear stained eyes before Mycroft cups your face in his hands. You look up at him sadly before his forehead presses against yours, small puffs of his warm breath hitting your face.    
  
  


"It doesn’t matter. You're home now." Mycroft whispers lovingly and you close your eyes as you let his smooth voice wash over you before letting out a small breath.    
  
  


 

"No one can hurt you now, my dear." 

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, his lips softly press against yours and you hum in contentment as his hands rest on your waist. He then sucks on your bottom lip before you allow his tongue entrance into your mouth. His tongue caresses yours and you moan softly as his hands now trail up your body slowly to run through your hair. The kiss is wet and urgent, you both pour your emotions into the kiss as if the world were ending. When you both pull away for air, Mycroft nuzzles his nose against yours before smiling. 

  
  


"I feel a lot better now." You giggle softly and Mycroft places quick kisses on your lips before murmuring a small,     
  
  


"Good."     
  
  


He then moves away from you and motions for you to sit down on the settee. He pours two glasses of scotch and sets them down on the small coffee table in front of you before sitting next to you and pulling you gently onto his lap. He pulls your damp hair out of the bun you put it in and lets it fall to your shoulders so he can run his fingers through it. You snuggle up to his chest but pull back quickly as a sharp pain shoots through your collarbone and shoulder. You groan in annoyance and Mycroft looks at you with concern.    
  
  


"Let me see." He says and you frown at him, shaking your head but you quickly change your mind as he quirks his eyebrow and gives you that look he gives Sherlock when he's annoyed with him. With a small sigh you lean back from him slightly and pull your t-shirt up over your head. You hold it over your stomach and breasts, even though you were wearing a bra, you didn't feel comfortable exposing yourself in front of Mycroft just yet. His blue eyes roam your top half, his face growing angry as he sees the mess on your shoulder and right arm.    
  
  


You shift uncomfortably on his lap before he whispers,    
  
  


"Oh, (Y/n)."  His hands now moving to caress your sides gently. He kisses your shoulder softly and you let out a small shaky breath as his lips slowly trail up to your neck where he sucks at softly and you can't help but moan out his name as your left hand moves to tangle in his  auburn hair. He then trails feather light kisses along your jawline and then all over your face before he kisses you on the lips once more. He takes your t-shirt from your hands and puts it back on you before he moves to bring the glass of scotch up to your lips. You gulp down the amber liquid and relax as it creates a warm feeling in your chest. You try and snuggle up to Mycroft again and this time you find a comfortable position that doesn't cause your body any pain.  

 

 

 

"What happened?" Mycroft asks, his voice vibrating in his chest against your ear. You take a deep breath, inhaling his cologne as you did before you went to tell him about everything that happened.Throughout your story he listened attentively and moved his slender fingers to run through your hair soothingly making you relax. You told him about Aylin and Asil, how if it wasn't for those two people you'd most definitely be dead.

 

 

"You were very lucky, (Y/n)." Mycroft murmurs into your hair. "I'm telling you now... You're taking time off so you can recover properly... I can come and stay with you- or... well, you could stay with me if you'd like." 

 

 

"Could I stay with you?" You ask, a small pink dusting your cheeks. Mycroft's heart flutters at this as the thought of caring for you and having you all to himself was all he wanted right now.

 

 

"I think that would be best. We don't want Sherlock bothering you now, do we?" He jokes and you laugh a little before resting your head back on him.  
  
  


"God I missed you." You mumble into the crook of his neck, your hands feeling the soft, cool material of his tie.   
  


"I missed you too, my dear."  He replies, kissing the top of your head.    
  
  


"At least I was able to keep half of my promise." You say, now slowly sitting up so you can look into Mycroft's blue eyes, which immediately soften once they lock onto your (e/c) ones.    
  
  


 

"What was that my love?"     
  


  


You cup his face in your hands and kiss him tenderly before whispering a soft, "I came back home, to you."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been in my head for a while now. This was inspired by the film 'Skyfall", since I watched it not long ago and it's one of my favourite films. 
> 
> I apologise if there are any mistakes in the story. I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for all the kudos and kind comments on my other works, it really means a lot to me. I hope you all enjoy this one just as much :)


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